


Two People Talking... Penelope Garcia and Avon

by Sally M (sallymn)



Series: Two People Talking... [20]
Category: Blake's 7, Criminal Minds
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/pseuds/Sally%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon's computerised brain in a box has... changed :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two People Talking... Penelope Garcia and Avon

**Two People Talking... Penelope Garcia and Avon**

"Whatcha thinking, cupcake?" 

Avon's voice held a subtle, suitably frigid wince, clearly designed to chill. "I am thinking, madam, you should _not_ use that expression." 

"Madam?" The reply was utterly unchilled, sparkling with pure delight. "You know that's the nicest thing you've said to me since we met." 

"I would not precisely call it... a meeting." 

"Of course you would, sweet thing. Just because you knew the previous owner - and I have to say, he sounded like a _real_ bundle of joy and laughter - doesn't mean you'd done anything _like_ meet the current occupant. That being my unhumble and utterly brilliant self." 

"I am aware of that - and kindly do not call me 'sweet thing'." The wince turned into a sub-aural shiver of loathing. 

"Hey, watch it with the paint job! And don't tell me you haven't been called sweet before? What are the girls in this place thinking?" There was a pause, then a flash of glittery joy. "Oh _yes_! Dayna - wasn't that the chick's name? - Dayna said you were beautiful. And honey, she wasn't kidding." 

"Dayna's taste may be impeccable -" 

"Ooooh, modest." 

"But her discretion leaves a lot to be desired. Drop the subject." 

"Your word is my command... not. And don't _you_ drop that bottle, do you have any idea how hard it was for your pals to find varnish in my colours these days?" 

"You do not need nail varnish, you do not have... _nails._ " 

"Minor technicality. You know, your little friend Vila - and he's _cute,_ not smokin' hot like you, but I always like a cuddly guy - anyway, Vila did a fabulous job on the artwork. Great hands that guy has. So when's he coming back to - buff me up?" 

"He has gone to find your.... faux-feathers. Which you also don't need." 

"Hey, if I'm stuck in this crate for eternity - or till you find a way to undo it - I need fuss and feathers. Be glad I didn't ask for sequins that match the nails." 

"Sequins -?" 

"Yeah yeah, I know, your nasty little Federation don't make them any more. Or anything fun. Why do you think I'm on your side? - beside the fact that you got me my nail polish, even if it _isn't_ my signature shade -" 

"Unfortunately," Avon said dryly, glancing at the brilliant shades so cheerfully laid on by Dayna and Vila, who adored their new 'crewmate', "anything at all by the name of Freedom seems to have disappeared from our dreary universe at the same time as your... sequins." 

"You know, part of my job as Rebel Utterly Extraordinaire will have to be adding colour and pizzazz to your world, gorgeous. Isn't it a good thing ya got me instead of the ego in a box you had before?" 

He stared at her - _it_ \- no, _her_ incredulously. "Madam -" 

"Call me Penelope." 

"No." 

"Then Goddess of Geekery and Greatness, I don't mind. They used to call me - well, they did once _I_ taught them to - the Oracle of Quantico where I came from. And Oracle fits _so well_ \- if the brainiac brain that was here told the truth, I can even tell the future. Put the laser probe down before you hit me, sugar - like I told you, it's kinda kinky how much you like to play with it." 

Avon stared silently - and as forbiddingly as he could - down at what used to be Orac before Vila had 'borrowed' it and teleported down into a war-torn Space City, and wondered briefly if they honestly couldn't - shouldn't - _wouldn't_ try to replicate the aquitar anomaly that had somehow replaced Orac's abrasive 'personality' with that of a self-described computer queen of the twenty-first century with a taste for yellow sparkles, painted-on lips and swirls in a Lindorian nail varnish even more scarlet than the Supreme Commander's own talons (with the name Sex-on-Satin Scarlet it ought to be, as Dayna had said) and the rainbow of faux-feathers Vila had promised to deliver. 

A computer queen - now a computer - called Penelope. 

"Orac could have stood for Oracle, you know. And this Oracle predicts you'll get to like me just as much as I already like you. Well, as much as I like lookin' at your cute bu-" 

"Orac!" 

"Not Orac any more," the brain in a box glittered in a spray of silver and pink light. "I told you, sweet thing. Penelope Garcia, Oracle of the Revolution." 

  


**\- the end -**

**Author's Note:**

> (Written for a dialogue challenge)


End file.
